A Forest in the Tree

Photo by Jason Weaver

Photo by Jason Weaver

Let me share with you some news
that I recently acquired
through the internetted, interconnected
world wired web
about what some scientists have discovered
below the cover of forest floor.

It seems that trees, long thought to be
these lone survivors-of-the-fittest,
in fact assist each other with nutrients
through an interconnected, internetted
bed of fungi and roots, much like neurons in a brain
they communicate with chemical exchange.

In other words, they speak.

Indeed, they speak a type of interspecies trees-ese
since an ecosystem with structured biodiversity
brings, among other things, resilience
so that a forest can survive despite fire and drought,
despite insects, wind and disease–
–but not logging.

You see, and it is this point I found most profound,
the largest, oldest, and most interactive trees,
those with the most complex systemic memories
act as generational elders, so that
as they age and degrade, they release their entirety
until eventually, at last, they collapse back to earth.

Imagine that,
a forest in the tree.

by Jason Weaver, 2014
The photo was taken at the National Park in Teresópolis, RJ, Brasil. I give full credit to the video “Do Trees Communicate?” by Professor Suzanne Simard, found on YouTube for teaching me such a beautiful reality of our world.
http://youtu.be/iSGPNm3bFmQ

The poem was written for and is dedicated to the students in my Conversational English class.

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In a Sense

A late morning sun warms my back
and casts a shadow onto the concrete slab underfoot.
It is Monday,
the First Monday
after a string of Forever Fridays.

I feel new.
Clean.

The air is immense
as it holds me in my place
filling in the empty space where nothing else seems to exist
but colors, intense
reds, blues, yellows.
Greens.

I feel that yesterday may have all
been just a dream
and that tomorrow
perhaps may never be
and so
I breathe it all in, deep
and as it rushes into my lungs and blood and bones
it binds within me,
pulsing into my mind it combines with me,
creating this very perception and memory
of all that I have seen,
of all that I have been,
of all that I know and feel,
all of this love has never been so

natural. Real.

It is Monday,
the First Monday after eternity
and here
now
is where I shall begin again.

by Jason Weaver, 2014